11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC – EVIL PERSONIFIED – SECTION 11

 11- LON – EVIL PERSONIFIED – SECTION 11

(BEGINNING OF SECTION 11)

 

 

Worren Youkup’s tightened jaw revealing his dogged resolve (his determined reluctance to speak) in the end forced her Ladyship Sejon to concede; and, forsaking propriety, a gesture of her hand dismissed Nijel also to the adjacent room with the others.

01- WORREN YOUKUP (6)JPM

 

Soon as she was gone, Worren Youkup’s expression hardened, presently burrowing his cold eyes into Sejon’s, he in an unyielding tone, bluntly stated that he was here to speak about Prince Herleif and the stiletto (penknife) in question. Anticipating her ready denial, he then held out his hand, and tersely added, "Save your breath, I’ve already determined the truth; it is of no use for you to deny your complicity in this matter.”

“You may as well make a clean breast of it."  Worren, moreover, taking advantage of her stunned silence, in his authoritative tone quickly put forth two consecutive, pertinent questions to her and demanded to know the answers to them:

“When precisely during the time he had shown Sejon the scrolls did Nijel (undoubtedly on Her Ladyship's instructions,) plant the stiletto inside the scroll? And when exactly had Sejon devised this scheme; a long while ago or, was it an opportune temptation to which she on the spur had succumbed to?” 

Worren had phrased this last bit deliberately to allow Sejon a chance to extricate herself with a semblance of dignity. Worren’s unusually direct approach meanwhile, had so shocked Sejon that her reply was long time in coming.

He would not dare be so forthrightly blunt with his accusations, unless he had attained indisputable proof; furthermore he, being right on the mark, would not take too kindly to her sly manipulation. Sejon askance (sideways suspiciously) had glanced at Worren. By then Sejon had realized that she had grossly underestimated the old tutor Worren Youkup, who was still very much astute, despite prior instances of his feigned muddle-headedness and supposed forgetfulness. Anxiously she bit her lower lip, thinking of her earlier erroneous suppositions when she had first heard of his unusual visit. She at the time had considered mounting a vehement denial of any involvement, then perhaps shedding a tear or two to soften Royal Tutor’s heart. She subsequently had planned gently berating (scolding)him and then swaying his righteous conscience, with sentimental euphemisms, guilt, and tailored aphorisms.

How could you even think of such a thing? She would have cried out against this injustice then would have added: I would never stoop to such pranks, for this surely was a prank, nothing more. I have harbored a slight resentment of Prince Herleif over the years, but who among us has not sustained an ingrained (deep-seated) grudge or worse, against him? The prince has never been an amicable being and has particularly been miserly with his deferential treatment of women. For numerous reasons, which I will not elaborate on other than to remind you of the last outrage he had committed, yes, I did intensely dislike him. Still, I have learned from you, Master Youkup, to walk a fine line and stay on the enlightened path of tolerance and compassion, and though it had not been easy, I had already forgiven the prince’s multitude of sins. Vengeful actions are all behind me now.   

  She would have gone on and on, just as she had rehearsed it.  

Sejon by using her feminine charms could still, even now, have played him, denied and distorted facts to achieve the eventual effect of, laying total blame elsewhere. Why, Worren Youkup’s vanity alone should have been sufficient to dissuade (discourage) the Royal tutor from pursuing this matter, for it would expose his being duped by no less, a naive female in her early twenties. Sejon was too clever in the meantime, to openly disclose her part in this diabolical scheme. Better she used uncertain terms and clever insinuations and double meanings, to allude to the truth. Later they could all be interpreted differently and totally recanted. It had to be done in such a way that Worren's analytical mind would be dulled or appeased. Oh, but all this mental strain so early in the day, was irksome to her and, it drained a good chunk of her vital energy. She was better disposed to managing such things in the late afternoons or evenings; the hours which, fortunately, coincided with Zakhertan’s occasional visits.  

Sejon was moreover displeased, noting that something was amiss with Royal Tutor this morning; though Worren seemed to play along, her evasive words and unspecified allusions obviously grated on his nerves, and he grew increasingly agitated. Despite his sympathetic smile, her instincts alerted her to the critical difference.

“You are way too clever for your own good, Master Youking, and by far too foolhardy.” Sejon lowered her eyes, to hide the fear and contempt that had just then registered in them. Worren had always been too upright and as much principled (ethical) as that cursed Lenny Sukzor. What if he did something quite drastic and went directly to Zakhertan to unburden himself of all that he knew. Best she humored him for now and articulated a heart-rending remorse to placate the old geezer (fool). He did after all, offered her a way out; obviously, that is what he wanted. Sejon’d settled on this recourse as she same time landed a partial ear to Worren’s incessant haranguing (tirade, lecture). No, but then she paused, she would absolutely, not give in, even an inch!

"Have you shared your thoughts with anyone else?" Sejon faking concern, asked.

Angrily, Worren Youkup shook his head, in denial.

“No, it is not something you would readily admit to anyone.”  Sejon was inwardly pleased and amused. "Good. Your own vanity will serve my purpose well.”

02- HER LADYSHIP SEJON

Lady Sejon assuming solicitous demeanor, " Master Youkup, naturally I wish to ease all your concerns, however, let us first move to the comfort of my inner chambers, she sweetly suggested, at once rising to her feet. “It is so hard to relax in these outer rooms."  Her meaning was clear; we will have more apt privacy and security there, from the prying ears.

Youkub’s grudging assent still gratified her, for the room she had chosen was furnished with a rather loud fountain, sheer draperies and cushioned floors that made eavesdropping impossible. She left word with the servants that she was not to be disturbed for any reason then turned to accompany Worren into the inner chamber.

Once they were there and comfortably seated, she cast her eyes downward her face suddenly grown ashen and her green eyes overflowing with accusatory hurt. "Oh, I am so grieved Master Youking, for you are the last person I wished to offend. To think that my maid's harmless indiscretion, a mere prank, should have had such dire consequences for one I hold in such high esteem as you. You have become dearer to me than my own parents, my own loving grandparents. Oh, I am so very distraught.”    

“Please grant me your leave to continue."  Sejon hastened to block Worren’s anticipated response. She heaved a shuddering sigh and shook her head. "When I found out, I punished Zijur severely and dismissed her on the spot. If you had thought that Nijel had something to do with it, you are mistaken. She was in no way involved." Sejon blatantly lied. "It was Zijur who had placed the item there in order to discredit myself and Nijel after her demotion."  She paused, pursed her lips, and shook her head once more in supposed deep dismay. As it were, Sejon held the firm belief, that she’d conceived that whole scheme with the knife by herself and, Nijel had only carried out Sejon’s instructions; consequently, if Nijel’s part was ever to be disclosed and she unjustly got punished, the guilt would weigh like a millstone on Sejon's conscience.      

“Stop there.”  Sejon inwardly advised self. “Illegitimate half-sister or not, it is much too risky to go that far out on a limb for Nijel.”  It bewildered Sejon how, in such a short span, Nijel had won both her deep affection and sure confidence. She was grateful to her nevertheless, for so many things, not the least of which was her instrumental role in exposing the actual indiscretions of Zijur before it could generate the most severe repercussions for Sejon. Zijur's discipline, dismissal in disgrace and her unexpected suicide had been, thanks to in great part Nijel's conscientious efforts, well contained. Though Zijur had been her companion for number of years now, Sejon felt nothing but contempt for her after she had so grievously disgraced herself; therefore, she felt no twinge of conscience in compounding Zijur‘s faults by adding this blame, not when the timing was so appropriate. Nijel contrastingly, was deemed indispensable, as she had lent Sejon consistent support, where it had been most warranted.  

Sejon so completely trusted Nijel in fact that, if ample proof of Nijel’s duplicitous character were to be presented to her, it would still not be believed and furthermore, regarded as malicious slander. Pushing all that concern about Nijel aside, Sejon now glanced up at Worren, smiled warmly, confidently then picked up where she had left off, reiterating again that the chief culprit, Zijur, had been properly punished and dismissed from her service.  As for the fate of the former lady in waiting, it was no longer of concern to her.  

"All the same, I must accept the responsibility for my servant's actions, for allowing all this to happen right under my nose."  She tentatively turned her imploring eyes on Worren Youkup and grimaced. "As you have so wisely deduced, sir, it was a momentary temptation that was seized by a disgruntled servant. I said no more of it after I dismissed Zijur because I had not imagined that it would ever come to this.”

 

03- ZIJUR

 “I also believed that the prince would receive no more than a slight reprimand and a dose of embarrassment from all this.  As it were, the knife was not of weapon's grade, nor was it laced with poison as an assassin's pick would have been. It was a penknife such as those readily available in the library."  Sejon knit her brows in consternation, relieved that Nijel had briefed her on all the details should she ever be brought to task.  "Still, what's done is done." she huffed in resignation. Worren s persistent stone face continued to disturb her and inwardly she quaked slightly.   

Worren Youkup turned his head, biting back his rising anger at Sejon's ongoing deceit. He knew something about Zijur’s character, and he doubted the timid, sweet-natured girl Zijur who’d served Sejon loyally all those years, would be guilty of all that her mistress was at present shamelessly impugning (attributing) to her.

Subsequently, his frayed patience was somewhat allayed (dispelled) by the astonishment he felt at seeing the wide range of emotions Lady Sejon had displayed in that short spell. What he had witnessed had been truly incredible. That this exquisitely beautiful face could appear indignant, proud, strong, and even angry at one moment and the next become like a frightened, helpless little girl so hurt and petrified, as though she was protesting her innocence at a wrongful reprimand by an angry, unreasonable authoritative adult. At the end, the pleading eyes framed by such an imploring face that his heart, in all defiance of reason, became more inclined to forgive her.      

"Oh, Master Youkup, I would give anything, do anything, to alleviate your mind from all worry. If only I could erase the accursed events that led to this dire outcome. You must not be held accountable, and certainly not suffer least consequence, on my account." Sejon ejected shakily, her voice brimming with remorse.   

“Brilliant performance, my dear…  You almost had me convinced there. Such concern deeply touches my heart.”  Worren studied her face, his piercing eyes narrowing. “But why the insistence on protecting Nijel; what kind of hold does she have on you that it can override your innate selfish nature? Again, I digress.” He shook his head to clear away just then distracting thoughts. “This distasteful charade has gone on, far too long; it has been made clear to me now, precisely what needs to be done. You are the ideal product of this environment; more pity that you are also the mother of our future Sovereign.”  His tight smile had a tinge of sourness as he rose to his feet and bowed his head slightly.   

"It seems, Your Ladyship that I have been wasting both of our precious time; for that, I profusely apologize. I will now take my leave of you and proceed to the North Palace, where which, resolved to make a clean breast of things, I shall seek an audience with His Highness Zakhertan Yozdek. From this day forth I shall not be troubling you anymore."     

“Finally, the response I sought.” Worren Youkup was inwardly pleased, observing Sejon’s startled demeanor, as if she had just then awakened finally, to the future grim, dreaded reality.  Looking into her horrified eyes he smiled cynically, "Rest assured My lady, I will exercise the utmost care to leave your name and that of Nijel’s, or should I say, Zijur, out of my report (account, confession), if only for the sake of your son Prince Magnian."      

“After all,” Worren grumbled inaudibly, as he headed across the expansive room. “I should have had the farsightedness of my age and long years of experience, to have anticipated the outcome of irregular handling of Prince Herleif’s scrolls; the culpability (guilt) therefore, is entirely mine.”    

Worren Youkup’s apparent gallantry, his willingness to take full blame on her behalf, his supreme sacrifice, restored Sejon's full confidence. "But Master Youking, you can't do that." With the agility of her youthful age, she hastened forward, spreading her hands, to bar his path and to entreat (implore) Worren, once seemingly the shock had worn off and had freed up her voice.  Then in an obvious expression of regret and humility, letting go of her innate pride, she in an unprecedented move, quite unexpectedly fell to her knees before the old tutor to, teary eyed, beg his forgiveness.     

"The fault is not yours to claim, sir.  You are a man of great integrity and benevolence, as you have proven with your unselfish offer to extricate me, unworthy as I am, from this predicament and shoulder full responsibility yourself even though your true involvement was merely incidental.”    

“But in all good conscience I cannot allow you to tarnish the impeccable reputation you have preserved for so many decades.  No, kind sir, even at best your public esteem will suffer irreparable damage and I will be forced to make tenfold penance at my time of reckoning.”    

Worren had remained speechless especially when Sejon fell on her knees and with humility, bowed her head low to him. "Yes, you have shown me the error of my ways.  Please allow me the chance now to redeem myself for my mistakes.  Have pity on my innocent son, whose reputation will also be slandered by the sins of his mother.  As frightened as I am, I am firmly resolved to doing the righteous thing.  Henceforth I shall stoically face the consequences of my negligence (in controlling actions of my servants), but I need time to prepare myself for this.  I am, after all, a mere woman with limited capacity for elocution.  Words do not come readily to me.  If I should incur the wrath of His Highness before I can explain everything, all would be lost and Magnian and I will suffer even more.”    

“Bravo my dear. Again, you almost had me convinced. If only you hadn’t overplayed your humility, rather debasing… there, you went bit too far.”    

"My own life is of little consequence.”  Sejon had continued meanwhile, with her teary supplication. “And even if I should prematurely expire, I would be content; for I cannot bear the thought of you, venerable sir, being so unjustly punished.  Oh, Master, you have been as grievously wronged as it is.  I hope that, in time, you will find it clear in your heart to forgive me.  I have so valued your altruistic tutelage (advice and guidance) and look how I have repaid your kindness.  Please, please sir, do not begrudge me this time I need to collect my thoughts and present my case in the best light so that the right thing is done for both my son’s and your sake, sir.  Knowing that justice is truly served will ready me for whatever punishment His Highness will deal to me."    

Despite himself, Worren Youkup’s heart was wrung out.  As he hesitated, he quietly considered how the dire repercussions would affect innocent Prince Magnian.  Over the past few months, he had grown quite fond of the intrepid toddler.      

"Heaven has eyes." Sejon surmising what was on Worren’s mind, continued.  "I believe Gods will protect the innocent, do not fret too much over Magnian, he won’t face any serious future peril.  No, sir, you cannot dissuade me from doing the right thing now."    

The old tutor (Worren Youkup) totally beguiled, now begun regretting his harsh treatment of Sejon.  Bending down, and lightly gripping her elbow, he urged her to rise and be seated.  Taking a position across from her, he first assured her that he’d grant her the extended time she’d requested then in earnest, began his good counsel.   

His mind was still as sharp as ever and the summation of his lifelong experiences were utilized to afford her the most perfectly enunciated, solid defense, one that she would have never been able to formulate on her own.   

 

 

(END OF SECTION 11) 

 

THE DRAGON LONGZE AND THE LOST DAUGHTER BERDIS - PART 1

(ORIGINAL STORY BY BOST 2025)

Part 1

A long time ago a mighty hunter called Alec, and his family lived in a modest dwelling alongside the lake near the base of the lofty mountain called DROGA. His only daughter, named Berdis (meaning spirit protection), was a beautiful girl with golden blond hair and blue eyes who from the earliest age seemed sensitive, thoughtful, and highly imaginative. Being rather introverted, she unfortunately, passed most of her time in solitude, and preferring nature and the company of plants, birds and animals to that of humans.

When Berdis was still very young, at night her mother Elin, on Berdis’s urgings, for plain old bedtime stories would never do, always lulled her to sleep with fantastic yarns, or thrilling verbal accounts of old legends passed down through generations. Berdis’s favorite fables always revolved around the mysterious tales that transpired in the forbidden zone known as the unhallowed (desecrated) ground, whom she’d been warned repeatedly, to never go near; and so, in her young years being a sweet obedient child, she’d obeyed, totally shunning that vicinity… A dense forested region, a narrow strip of land which spanned from mid elevation of the mountain down to the sandy shore of the lake. Mortals always fear what they do not understand. Anyhow, trespassers, she was told, without fail would fall under the spell of mystical, hazardous elves, minions (gofers, underlings) of evil spirits, wolf pyxies or fox dryads that dwelt in that unholy region.   Furthermore, tree and wild plant fairies lusted after naïve souls (hence, stole, collected them), as they consistently frolicked in mischievous, mesmerizing revelry; but worst of all, was the mighty, fierce Dragon that lived in a deep cave close to the summit (zenith) of the mountain.  According to old legends, some warriors had dared to enter the mouth of the cave, only to be instantly incinerated by the Dragon’s fiery breath; and since no one came back to recant (disavow, deny) or attest to its truth, this hearsay (and belief) had propagated (promulgated) intense fear and dread since time immemorial.

So fearful were the common folks of that desecrated region   that, whenever they came to close proximity, they always left behind an offering or a token to appease any ill will and ward off malevolence from the supernatural entities.

When Berdis got little older, being sensible but also curious and an idealist (dreamer), doubted the validity of such beliefs; and so, she’d stealthily visited this forbidden segment, yet despite the numerous times she’d trespassed into that area, she had never once experienced (encountered) any threat or adversity. Far from it, everything seemed to instead, welcome her and always made her feel as though she belonged.  Guarding this secret well, meanwhile, she often went missing longer and longer periods, basking, savouring her time in that forbidden zone, exploring in depth every nook and cranny, cluster of trees, bushes or flowers. Young as she was, she appreciated beauty and untamed nature and would sometimes gather strange, wildflowers and plants and upon her safe return, presented these delightful gleanings to her parents along with intriguing, ambiguous (obstruse) accounts of all her adventures that had transpired in her rambles.

Although her parents harbored some suspicion about her trekked venues (sites, places, spots), they were unwilling to prohibit her dubious escapades. She’d always been very gentle and delicate in temperament and nature; therefore, they could not openly articulate their opposition for fear of making her sick; and since she always returned in safety, her furtive visits to this enchanting place had persisted till she grew up in years to her early teens.

Each passing day, gradually growing more adventurous Berdis, ultimately sought the furthest remotest parts of the prohibited area, even ascending to the grater elevations of mountain.  This particular day, as she pensively trudged (trekked) through the barely feasible narrow strip, delving deeper into another unknown section of the region, she had suddenly recollected that old ballad which had alluded to an invisible trail that would rarely and mysteriously manifest for the chosen one, leading her/him eventually to the deep cavern where a fierce Dragon dwelled. She heaved a deep sigh and shook her head, knowing she was not that special, therefore, that would not happen to her.

Just then however, as if in answer, in the periphery of her vision, she noted the suddenly manifested trajectory (route, track) off to the side, inviting her to traverse it.  She placed her hand over her heart to steady her bursting excitement, meanwhile, her feet as though pulled by an irresistible draw, had already delved into the thick foliage and, after many hours of ascending the narrow goat’s path and then subsequently clearing the last obstacle of a  thorny, dense bushes that had obligingly parted to allow her passage, she’d delightedly (chanced upon) encountered an enormous gaping mouth of the huge cavern (grotto).

There was and irresistible pull for her to enter; inexplicably however, she desisted the urge (temptation), and instead, sat in lonely reverie there upon some high promontory of rock near the entrance of the deep cavern (grotto). Positioned amid all the leafy haunts of forest pines but quite close to the cliff’s edge, her eyes next trailed the snaking, downward track which led to the narrow strip of shoreline of the pristine lake.  Despite the distance, her acute hearing just then picked up the harmonious, melodious ripples of the waves lapping against the open shore. Of course, when she returned home just before dusk, this venture was too, added to the pages of her cherished private memory.

She had covertly returned to the mouth of the cave many more times (since) after that day, since the path always manifested, as if a welcome draw (lure, incentive) and, always allowed her a safe passage effortlessly through. Meanwhile, in all that time it had been the mighty Dragon (wielding his innate willpower), who had (checked) prevented her from entering the cave, for had she done so, he would have been (and not by choice,) forced to incinerate her (turn her into ash) with his fiery breath. As testament to this fact, there were vestiges (remnants) of charred bone fragments in several large heaps of ashes positioned only few steps withing the mouth of the cave.

Oh, but she never minded sitting in her favorite spot with her face turned upwards, gazing at the sky and observing the clouds that sailed on by. Sometimes she offhandedly (calmly) noted the smooth flight patterns of the eagles circling the sky; other times she slightly turned her head to gaze with keen eyesight at the languid, shimmering ripples on the lake’s surface far below. Oftentimes, with the gentle breeze caressing her cheeks, her thoughts would linger in lengthy contemplation, as though in communion with the spirit of an unknown force cold and distant, yet curious and fair.

Gradually this ethereal (otherworldly, enigmatic) force thawed, as at the same time elusive, yet almost sympathetic, arcane vernacular encroached (impinged, intruded) her mind. She embraced this with certain fascination, her heart alternately soothed or pulsated, by these most engaging stanzas, ancient limericks and thrilling chronicles, those he chose to share. Emboldened, she at times sought its divine guidance and solace, wanting to lighten her soul and alleviate the melancholy that seemed of late to grip her heart.

Then came the day which she affirmed her innate intuition, that she was indeed all that time, had been conversing with the Dragon that inhabited the cave; moreover, she now learned of his name: Longzi.

Once, when her father Alec remained afar on the hunt later than usual, and it was feared that he could be overwhelmed by a tempest, or encountered some misfortune, Berdis had surreptitiously, in her room lit a candle, knelt on the side of her bed and, palms held together in supplication,  called onto her Dragon friend Longze in prayer for his help, knowing despite his confinement in the cave, he could still direct (order)  the nature’s elements, as well, engage his minions and  spirits’ help to speed her father’s safe return. He had not disappointed her.

 By then, her initial inhibition had given way to genuine fondness of this noble, wise Dragon, whom she lately called, a dear old friend; furthermore, all during the long snowy winter, where it had been inadvisable for anyone to venture out into wilderness, she secretly yearned to go see him, disregarding the portended (expected) dangers. Strangely enough, it was Longze that each time discouraged her from this foolish aim, asking her to be patient a little while longer instead, when her trek would be safer during the more moderate temperatures, and later still, he promised to be with her (he did not say how,) when she reached the age of consent, which in her mountain village, was sixteen.

To alleviate her persistent concerns, he often kept in touch with her during her sleep, but always in vernacular (language, dialect, lingo) and never in an image (appearance, likeness). Perhaps he did not wish to frighten her.

Progressively, as their souls touched (feeling and thinking same), they had become little more than good friends and eventually he’d allowed himself to implicitly trust and feel unwavering affection (love) for this mortal girl. Though he had never outwardly professed (declared) it, in his heart and soul, he had already chosen her to be his eternal love.

On her subsequent visit which the warmer temperatures had allowed it, Longze imparted to her via scant details, gently as he could, the reasons for his execrable confinement. He had done this (as he’d been forbidden to do) with guarded, wary and indirect words, using references to enigmatic lyrics, cagy verses, tender dirges (laments). She had learned then, through insinuation and guesswork, the gist of his harrowing sentence, years of sorrowful plight (ordeal, torment), which came about because he had once pitied the offender, had failed to punish (destroy) and so, breached (violated) the ironclad Heavenly Law. For his disobedience, he’d been imprisoned in that cave, chained to the wall, for over three thousand years.

 As Berdis had listened to the voice in her head, her heart was so wrenched that, she’d shed quiet tears in deep sympathy of his endured pain. He loved her all the more for this, though next he did his best to lighten her mood. There was another concern, a secret that had long prayed on his mind, but this one he chose not to divulge, as the outcome pended on an unforeseen circumstance; instead, he communicated to her that, fortuitously, his sentence was nearing an end, about the time when she reaches the age of consent (16 years old), choosing to steer (guide) her thoughts in the direction of hope.  

A week later, again stealing away to the mouth of the cave and while reclining pensively against the young pine-tree, she’d fancied that she had heard Longze’s voice sweetly addressing her. At first it had been scarcely more than a sigh, but gradually it had grown more pronounced: 

"Sweet maiden,” said the melodious whisper. “Pray think of me not just a Dragon; but as one who is fond to be with thee; I, with my tall and scaly strength, with my bright fire red eyes, a nodding star high up in the night’s sky, one that every evening sparkles above thee. Thou art having captured my heart, Berdis; before you retire to bed, (and succumb to sleep), walk to the window and cast your gaze up to the sky, to heavens and be at peace. Fly from men who are false and cruel, and quit the tumult of their dusty strife and instead embrace this quiet, gentle regard (honour, affection). Rest over thy head on my chest, and I will carry you up to the stars. I will breathe a perfume like that of flowers over thy happy evening rest. I'll waft thee o'er the waters of the sky-blue lake. I will deck the folds of thy mantle with the sun's last rays. Come in spirit, as often as you desire, and we’ll soar over the mountain free, riding the gentle (clouds) winds, together in the land of the stars."

These riveting, enchanting words were drunk in with an eager ear by Berdis, and in time the tiny buds of love in her heart transformed into full blossoms, her mind made up she’d sworn thence, to forsake all other. Returning to the spot time after time, she’d listen with intent to hear more akin declarations of love, but the voice thereafter had become only an inaudible murmur and then, it had ceased altogether. Though alarmed, in her heart the hope persisted and flourished with a sure conviction that on her sixteenth birthday, whatever tribulation that beset (affected, plagued) him, it would be satisfactorily resolved.

In the meantime, now that she was in her mid-teens (15 years old), she’d grown into an exquisite beauty, and many young men in the village was secretly smitten with her.  Springtime, being sign for renewal, they sought to win her attention, akin bees drawn to an exquisite flower for pollination. She paid no heed to any of them however and continued to secretly frequent the fairy grounds at greater length; then on her return, became even more introverted. Disenchanted by all the mundane, trivial, hollow mortal pursuits, Berdis would oftentimes sit vacantly (indifferently) when she was cajoled (coaxed) into partaking with the many springtime festive occasions, celebrations and communal events; sometimes, she even feebly made the effort to join, just to appease her parents, though her heart was never in it. Increasingly detesting these irksome obligations, she walked among her people with detached air, her heart suffused in melancholy, as though she was a passing spirit not belonging to that world anymore.

In fact, gradually with the passing of each day her secret communions with the phantom Dragon had so intensified that it had captivated her heart entirely.  Meanwhile, her growing strange detachment from the accepted norm now alarmed her parents who began suspecting that some evil spirit had enticed her into its clutches and had cast upon her a charm which she had not the power to resist.

In private conversations late one night before going to bed, her father and mother had even considered those amassed marriage proposals that had been subtly offered but carefully put aside (for future consideration); an acceptance of one, could provide the means to ground Berdis in reality and rescue her from her furtive (secret), dire, obsession.

Among the considered suitors was a handsome, but rather conceited young man, three years older than Berdis, called Tamuz; and being the only son of an affluent merchant, he never lacked for anything. With such a propitious marriage, she would be well provided for. What Alec and Elin did not know however, during one of the spring festive events, Temuz had brazenly approached her, so sure he was of his charms, inviting her to be his partner for the finale (climax) group dance; however, the unthinkable had happened when she had flatly rejected him, choosing to partner instead, with the timid young man called Kenny, that stood beside him.

From that moment on, with his vindictive nature unleashed, she had been marked for conquest, to be subdued and tormented by his hand, under the banner of matrimony, in months to come. As his parents had patiently awaited the response to the recent marriage proposal put forth to Alec, Temuz meanwhile, taking matters into his own hands, had stealthily engaged his bond servant to discreetly monitor Berdis’s comings and goings, looking for key opportunity to sully her reputation, hence to succinctly, even earlier, achieve his diabolical aim.  

He did not have to wait for long, when one day at crack of down, Berdis was seen secretly leaving her home and heading into the woods. Informed thus, Temuz, was soon in hot pursuit.  Quickly overcoming his innate fear, Temuz, had unseen followed Berdis into the depths of the forbidden zone and subsequently, concealed by a huge trunk, he had overheard Berdis, quietly seated at a rock, by the side of the Cavern’s opening, murmuring to some phantom companion, her entreaties (appeals) just then: “Oh, my dear, dear friend!” Berdis had whispered, her heart palpitating with intense emotion for gradually, though she’d never laid eyes on him, Dragon Longze’s gentle, wise, noble ways had captivated her heart and made her fall deeply in love with him. “Dear, sweet and gentle master of the skies and the foaming lake do not forsake me now, but visit thou my nightly pillow once more, shedding over its silver dreams of mountain brook and pebbly rivulets. Spirit of the starry night; lead my footprints to the blushing, burning passionflower that shines with a carmine hue. Why have you been silent these last few months, speak to me, I entreat you,” she’d pleaded, looking away from the beautiful young pines which lightly swayed their green leafy limbs over her head and gently brushing her face, to cast her passionate gaze at the entrance of the cave. “I am here my love. Embrace me, your Berdis, with thy powerful mind, liken to the ones spring unfolds from its sweetest flowers, or hearts that to each other show their inmost adoration. Soon, my dear, when your chains are no more, we shall be together, never to part.”

“Ahahh!!! I caught you now, you wanton (lustful) harlot! How long have you been having these immoral rendezvous?” Temuz stepped forward from his hiding place, threateningly shaking his fist. “To think we all believed you were so pure, so pious!  Hah!”  With his ugly, hateful visage, he advanced menacingly towards her, to grab her arm and drag her back, so as to denounce her publicly in the centre of the village.  

End of Part 1

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